


Things Get Broken

by bexacaust



Series: Precious and Fragile Things [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 14:20:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8717251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexacaust/pseuds/bexacaust
Summary: Things get damagedThings get brokenI thought we'd manageBut words left unspoken





	1. Things Get Broken

Everything is cold.

Drift feel his awareness stop dead at the edges of his outline, come to a coaxing halt somewhere in the vast claustrophobia of this lonely space. And everything is cold, but not uncomfortable.

Its a special kind of cold- clean rain on warm plating, idle hands over stiff backstruts. Lookout kisses and huddles on patrol as optics scan the empty horizon.

There’s no gravity here, and Drift wonders vaguely if he died. If the end of his journey was the end of all he knew.

He decided that if this was death, it was better than he deserved... And he gave in to the tug of unconsciousness.

Wakefulness returned to him again, a surprise in his Nothing Place. He realized he dreamed, here in the nowhere-realm he found himself in, that there was feeling in his servotips. Like sluggish autorepair and old wounds healing, feeling was coming back to him.

He hears a voice, and slowly, his helm turns.

_::You’ll be alright. I’m here.::_

He knows that voice.

_::I’ve done all I could for the moment. There is still much to do. But for now, rest.::_

That voice... isn’t Wing. Drift feels his vocoder cycle up, and then whine as it cycles down. A field reaches him in his comforting void like a hand cupping his cheek, like a thumb tracing microplating that lets him smile.

The loving chill embraces him again and he sinks under.

Searing heat pierces the timeless unknowing, and Drift feels himself try to scream. It feels like his sparkchamber is turning inside out and imploding even as his spark itself seems to go nova. He curls, choking on the sounds that won’t come and feels the bite of claws into his palms. He thrashes and snarls in his empty space, in his unchartable dreamscape-

_::Drift, calm; calm I know it hurts- believe me, I know it hurts.::_

That voice again.

_::This too shall pass, I promise. You’re almost there.::_

Before the pain slams into him again like a tsunami, Drift manages one shaky and staticky comm.

_::Perceptor?::_

And then the world is burning again.

Perceptor stands outside the chamber, a hand on the glass as Drift shudders and arches. Perceptor knows that final stretch of the sparkchamber healing is always the worst, the most painful. It’s rebirth without the blessing, its renewal with no holy praise.

You must hurt, sometimes, to know for sure you’re alive.

He keeps a careful optic on the screens, monitoring Drift’s slowly levelling sparkpulse as the stability percentages climb higher and higher- 80, 85, 90.

Drift shudders, and a soft chime signifies the beginning of drain protocol.

95, 96, 97.

Drift’s shudders and shakes come slower and slower.

98...99...

**[Homeostasis reached; Fluid Drain Protocol Active.]**

A hum, and bubbles like dim optics rise through the heavy fluid as the drains open at the base. Drift’s frame is trembling, his plating rising and lowering like the ripples of a wary cat’s fur in a dark alley.

When the chamber is drained enough for Drift’s helm and shoulders to be exposed, his pedes click against the floor of the chamber with the sound of rosary beads in a priest’s pocket- and he leans against the side of the chamber.

Perceptor fidgets as the chamber drains slowly, until just the dregs swirl around in the base, around Drift’s heels. The entry hisses, and slides open like the curtain before a show, and Perceptor’s hands reach out automatically to pull Drift’s still-cool existence against his warmer one.

The sniper half-guides, half-drags the limp mech to the medislab, feeling the twitches of desired movement hum along repaired struts and patched microdamage.

With a silent grunt, the scientist lifts Drift onto the smooth slab and begins his final touches.

Knowing hands check every cable and joint with precision from years of quiet berthroom worship moreso than medical prowess. A press to an inset trigger lets the chestplate click and hum as it opens enough for him to peer within.

Gold and burgundy glows back at him, healthy and bright and hungry for life once again. There’s a wobble to the rotation, but that’s to be expected.

The shot narrowly missed the killzone.

Perceptor carefully closes Drift up, using an internal network signal to trigger a raise of light levels.

_::Drift.::_

A soft grumble.

_::Online.::_

Within Drift’s processor, the hum of systems kicking up from their idle states seems to echo like church hymns and his optic shutters ease open as though newly formed. The optic feed is glitchy and blurred, but slowly begins to calibrate until color is once again visible.

Drift purrs as a hand is against his cheek, and he flickers his optics in a slow blink. His HUD pings with damage reports and repair permissions, minor reboots and reconnection notices. And one by one they fade away and he’s staring at a medibay ceiling.

And Perceptor leans into his sightline.

_::You had me worried there, Drift.::_

_Drift blinks, stunned._

_::Quite the finicky patient, aren’t you?::_

“Per....cy?”

_::Rest a while longer, Drift.::_ , the comm hums, _::I’ll be here when you wake up.::_

“Percy is it, are you- Am I...?”

_::This is real..::_ , is the answer as Perceptor’s faceplates give way to that familiar tired smile, _::Rest, I’ll still be here.::_

_**::I promise.::** _


	2. Terra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His dreams were few and far between; blurry at the edges like a crooked camera focus and soft in ways he’s not sure he ever was. Something warm, something soft. Something cool, something clean.

Drift slept.

His dreams were few and far between; blurry at the edges like a crooked camera focus and soft in ways he’s not sure he ever was. Something warm, something soft. Something cool, something clean.

When his optics opened, he was sprawled on a berth- one pede dangled off and on instinct he withdrew it and sat up to peer around. Shutters were open, letting morning light slant in with eiderdown colors and cottony dust motes drifting about. 

A hand to his helm to stop the morning-muddled spin of his processor, he yawned grandly until his jaw clicked and settled. Mouth closing and glossa licking rough lipplates he turned to let his pedes thud softly against the floor.

He smelled warm energon and sunlight and vented deeply.

He rose from the berth, backstrut cracking once and making him wince as he shook himself to wake up a little more.

The door was open, the keypad to lock it looked broken. Drift frowned, yawning once again as he strode out into the main area of the shuttle. The lights were low, most were off and the windows and hull vents unshuttered and letting breezes travel in from outside.

His pedesteps were heavy as he moved to the main console- shut down, it looked like. Not even set at an idle conservation mode. He hummed to himself, looking around the central area before spotting what he wanted- a washroom.

The call of getting clean was loud and he felt his shoulders sag as he walked towards it, pulling the door open as it hadn’t latched and the keypad didn’t glow as though activated.

A note was stuck to the window.

_Solar power. Allow 20 kliks to heat suds. Solvent replaced with local mixture. Safe for plating, but tickles._

Drift’s optics flickered in a blink before he reached out and flipped the switch.

The hiss of liquid streaming down was welcome, and he held out a hand to feel the temperature. Tepid, but comfortable- and it would at the very least wake him up the rest of the way.

His scabbards leaned up against an empty wall, he stepped into the stream.

And nearly yelped aloud.

Tickle was an understatement. The liquid bubbled and fizzed like an energon cordial, and Drift was a mess of snorted laughter and jumpy motions before it finally got under his plating.

And then he went nearly limp, leaning against the washrack wall. It was all the delight of an oil bath as the suds warmed and all the strut-deep sensation of a full maintenance visit as dust was eased away from protoform and spirit.

He looked around the washrack, comfortably lit and squinted at a few visible plumbing bypasses he could see along the line where walls met ceiling.

After giving himself a thorough scrubbing, he shut down the washrack- being sure to double check that nothing dripped. He stepped out, flaring his plating and letting the air dry him out slowly as he checked himself over-

He remembered being shot. He remembered the Nothing Place and he remembered-

“Percy?”, he mumbled, finials rising into straight points in curiousity before leaving the washracks. He checked each room of the shuttle; even going so far as to peer into the underfloor crawlspace.

With no sign of the scientist, worry bubbled in his tanks like the fizzy cleanser as he pressed the hatch activation- the only console still active.

A groan, and the heavy hatch lowered as he walked carefully down, ready for another attacker-

To find... Nothing. Nothing but the tinkerings of a lonely scientist. He blinked in the sudden sunlight, shading his optics with a hand until they adjusted before looking out over the expanse to try and spot familiar red plating.

The scent of scalded copper and additives reached him, and he perked immediately.

He remembered the scent- slim little sticks some of the Wreckers burned, inhaling the fumes and exhaling teal clouds from their vents. Perceptor rarely indulged in them- except on occasions where he was vastly overcharged or vibrating from his own stress.

Drift followed the smell until he saw the telltale small swirls of teal-blue-green shimmering in the air.

Perceptor, at the... remnants of Drift’s shuttle.

The scientist huffed and hissed, obviously having an animated discussion with himself in his helm without voicing any of his opinions.

An exhale of teal clouds again.

“Percy?”, said Drift quietly.

The scientist jerked to a straightened position.

“Percy!”

Perceptor turned, a smear of grease on one cheek and a new scar on the other shimmering in the daylight.

_::Good morning Drift. Did you sleep well?::_

“I slept... weirdly deep.”, laughed Drift, “How long was I out, til midmorning it looks like?”

_::Well... Judging by the solar movements on this planet- ten days.::_

“...What.”

Perceptor went back to his work, continuing to speak through comms, ::You suffered a severe injury, Drift To top it off, you were extremely underfueled and your systems were under a great deal of duress. Once you stabilized I moved you from the medibay to the berth- with an IV drip in your lines.::

“Why won’t you talk?”, asked Drift, walking closer.

Perceptor once again straightened, looking mildly uncomfortable.

_::Erm. Well...::_

“Percy.”

_::My vocoder is coroded. It went into shutdown a while ago, and I haven’t the parts to replace it.::_

Drift jerked back, “What?!”

_::Sadly, yes. I haven’t been able to speak in some time, actually. I’ve grown used to the quiet.::_

Drift frowned, “...Percy, c’mere.”

Confused, the scientist approached. Drift tapped Perceptor’s chin, guiding him to tilt his helm back and expose his neckcabling. The sniper jolted as Drift’s clawed servos carefully moved aside the cabling to peer into the depths.

“You leadhead.”, sighed Drift, “It’s not corroded. It gave you that warning because it’s a mess! It’s coated in grit and dust and the connectors are caked in grease and fuel.”

_::...What?::_

“Your vocoder isn’t broken, Percy. It needs maintenance.”, laughed Drift, “Gimme a second, I think First Aid gave me something that can help with this.”

He stepped away from the scientist to the neatly piled supplies and began rooting around in them before he came across a box with a half cracked seal.

“I’ve been using it for a while for my own bits and bobs y’know.”, continued the swordsmech, the lid of the box creaking as it was opened, “Old soldier trick. Gotta be able to bark orders on the battlefield, even in a dust storm.”

He nodded his helm for Perceptor to come closer; the sniper eyes the can in Drift’s hand warily, squinting just a little as the whie mech shook it vigorously.

“Helm back.”

Slowly, Perceptor obeyed.

And soundlessly shrieked at a blast of pure cold!

“Hold still, you overgrown sparkling.”, sighed Drift, holding Perceptor’s arm to steady the jumpy mech. The can hissed with each cold blast, and Drift leaned forward to huff a breathe from his intake at the scattered particles that cracked away.

“Rag. CLEAN rag.”

Perceptor reached blindly into his subspace, pulling out a measure of rough-hewn steelmesh cloth.

Drift took it with a chipper word of thanks, returning to rooting in the open box.

“Don’t move.”

Perceptor froze solid as he heard a cap click open. Another wordless yelp as the dampened rag- partially wrapped around Drift’s servos- gently poked into the small space between cables and gently wiped away something that felt suspiciously like old sand.

“There. Clear your intake and spit.”

Perceptor tilted his helm back down, and forced his systems to hiccup into a cough.

_**IMMEDIATELY**_ the taste of oil and grease assaulted him, and with a frown he turned his helm to the side and spat something black and awful.

“Now, reboot your vocoder.”

Perceptor’s HUD pinged softly as he initiated the bootup protocols.

**[Scanning Vocoder Hardware....]  
[Scanning....]  
[Scan Complete. Vocoder Corrosion level at 0.01%. Activation Protocol Online.]  
[Standby...]**

Three chimes, and Perceptor blinked in shock.

“Drif?”, he rasped out, before clearing his intake and spitting to the side again.

“Yech.”

Drift snorted, “All that science in your helm and you forgot basic maintenance.”

“It wasn’t exactly at the forefront of my processor.”, said Perceptor. His voice was still rough and gravelly, and he spat to the side again, “That is a godawful taste. The hell is in that little container?”

Drift grinned, “Promise you won’t scream at yourself?”

“Yes?”

Drift held up the can, one finial lowering in amusement.

“...You mean to tell me all my troubles could have been avoided... with... WITH...”

“Yep.”, said Drift, “All you needed was compressed air for cleaning security keyboards.”

Not far from them, a group of flying organic creatures hissed and squawked- reptilian scales shimmering in the light as they undulated away into the air-

Away from the ** _“AUGH!”_** that echoed in the sunlight, followed by a bellow of laughter.


	3. Clearing The Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scuffed and chipped reticule; the crosshairs worn and blurry and the edges dulled.
> 
> “I thought you were DEAD.”

His frustration with himself was.... endearing.

Endearing in old and familiar ways, a pouted frown and a cocked hip and Drift had to forcibly swallow more laughter. It wouldn't do- cackling himself to tears at the sight of Perceptor thoroughly done-and-finished with his own stubbornness.

“I-I mean, Well.. Percy you haven't always been the best at taking care of yourself.”

“I find that hilarious, coming from the king of tempting death and destruction.”

Drift winced, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, “Okay, fair, fair. You got me there, Percy.”

“Exactly.”, said the sniper, with only vague hints of smugness, “Now help me with this, would you?”

“What... is it?”

“Stuff and things?”

“Percy.”

“I'm being honest!”

Drift put his hands on his hips, and squinted his optics, “Perceptor.”

“Perhaps I went a little raid crazy- things happen in a firefight.”

Drift tilted his helm. Perceptor looked away and coughed awkwardly, returning to the pile of supplies- many marked with scuffed Decepticon emblems. Cases cracked as he forced the tops to open and reveal their contents, and he muttered to himself as he cataloged everything as he pulled it free of it's packing-

“...Percy, Perce this is way more than should have been pulled from just three little ringjumper shuttles.”, said Drift very carefully, “Where'd the rest of it come from?”

“Been in the hold since I overtook my new ship.”

“...Overtook?”

“Yes, overtook.”, continued Perceptor, “Nine crewmembers and a captain. Easy enough.”

Drift was quiet a moment- and then he released a slow wheeze through his exvents, sinking down to sit on one of the crates that had yet to be investigated. Worriedly, Perceptor turned back to him, optics dimming slightly as his lipplates flattened into a nervous line.

“Drift?”

“I should've known.”

“Drift, are you alright...?”

Drift's finials slanted back, twitching and jittering in one of the few blatant showings of... fear. Perceptor moved closer, reaching out to put a hand against the swordsmech's arm as he went to speak. The click of a subspace pocket opening and Drift reached within to pull out what had become his worrystone during this whole search.

A scuffed and chipped reticule; the crosshairs worn and blurry and the edges dulled.

“I thought you were DEAD.”

Perceptor blinked at him.

Drift looked at Perceptor's worried expression and smiled weakly, lipplates wobbling slightly, “I found your old shuttle, ransacked and shot up- the last logged contact you had was with a Decepticon scouter, I thought... All we found was this. This and your pistols.”

Perceptor sighed- and somewhere he meant to say SOMETHING witty, something calming and snarky just like their few interactions back on the Lost Light but he was cut off by Drift pushing forward and tackling him down in a furious hug. Perceptor yelped softly as they hit the ground in a haphazard tangle of limbs and angles before he looked down to trembling finials and plating held tight against protoform.

“I thought the worst Percy- I thought you had gone off and died; been killed off right as I was going to bring you home.”

Perceptor propped himself up on one elbow, the other arm going around Drift's waist carefully.

“Come now. You of all mechs should know I don't die so easily.”

“And YOU out of anyone should know that second chances are rare and hard to catch.”, was the quiet answer. Clawed servos moved to tap gently at a solid chestplate, and Drift looked hesitantly up at Perceptor's thoughtful face.

“....Fair enough.”

“I didn't want you to be gone before I could make sure you heard my answer, at least.”

“Answer?”

“When you left, you said something to me over comms, remember? When I was... a little medicated.”

“Heavily sedated by Ratchet, no doubt due to a panic reaction.”

“Yeah.”

Perceptor swallowed hard, “I remember quite well. What I said to you, I mean.”

“ _I love you, Drift.”_ _  
__“_ _I’ve loved you for a very long time…”_

“It cut out. Before I could answer you, anyway.”

Perceptor nodded, intake suddenly going dry. Suddenly he wasn't a world-class sniper nor a master of his scientific craft- once again, he felt like some... shy University student, getting an answer to a note passed during lecture.

“I loved you too, Perce. Still do.”, said Drift softly, clinging just a little tighter, “I didn't want to lose you before I said that.”

The swordsmech looked up, optics wide and shy all at once. A kind of innocence that only he had- the haunted breed of purity, the searching kind of affection. Perceptor felt his spark clench hard... and he chuckled.

And then he cackled.

And then he burst out laughing, dropping back against the soft grass and earth and wrapping both his arms tight around Drift until the ex-Con wheezed against Perceptor's neckcables and buried his own hysteric snickering against the sniper's throat. When the laughter petered down into bubbles of chuckling and shy smiles, Drift seemed to realize exactly where he was sprawled.

Perceptor raised an eyebrow as the tips of Drift's finial's seemed to brighten and bend the air around them with warmth.

Drift cleared his throat softly, feeling the weight of Perceptor's arms move away so he could scramble off of the sniper's frame and to his own pedes as Perceptor followed. They said nothing, avoiding each other's optics until Perceptor huffed softly.

“Anyway, ah. Hm. Would you, erm-”

“Yeah, I'll lend a few servos with this.”

Neither knew where this sudden shyness came from. Neither knew, but they welcomed it as they stood shoulder to shoulder and shared little words and smiles in their peripheral vision and let their hands brush every so often and the suns slowly sank on this emerald-draped planetoid they had landed on as the ringed moon began to rise like the corners of their mouths in smiles that they weren't sure they could hold back.

 


	4. Stargazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blue slice of galactic starstuff glimmered above them like a blessing and the fire burned itself to embers, a dull glow easily outshone by the lonely pair pressed close with the world momentarily forgotten.

It took the rest of the day and part of the evening to get everything sorted and logged in the inventory. After the crates were emptied, the pair shared a look, and grinned.

And with a little creative ingenuity- and a little bit of playing with fire from Drift- they had something of a campsite going. The shuttle behind them loomed in cool shadows and they relaxed their plating as they sat heavily in the soft overlong meadowgrass that covered the ground.

Drift sprawled, arms crossed behind his helm as he felt the warmth slip under his frame to his protoform.

“Now this is relaxation.”

“Indeed.”, answered Perceptor as he stretched, “The best thing after a long day's work, in all honesty.”

Drift snorted, “Yeah, and no Springer to whine about us wasting time. Or Magnus to give us funny looks and tell us we should be patrolling instead.”

“And no Blurr.”

Drift looked at Perceptor, waiting for him to continue. Perceptor glanced over to him and shrugged.

“That's it. 'No Blurr' is a complete sentence. Much like 'please crash into a wall' and 'shut up you raving glitch'.”

“Primus, are you STILL bitter-”

“You do not understand the level of suffering I endured from the blue menace to society and patience.”

“I can imagine. He was a little... flirtatious.”

“Drift.”

“Okay, okay. He was shallow. Kinda.”, laughed Drift at Perceptor's deadpan expression, “You could probably step in a puddle of him and not get wet-”

“Step in him and you come away with something you need to visit a clinic for.”

“PERCEPTOR!”

Once again Drift was lost to peals of laughter, and Perceptor looked very pleased with himself as he leaned back to stare at the stars for a moment- before he chimed a soft, “Oh!”, and got to his feet. Drift wiped coolant from his optics and wheezed a soft honk of laughter before looking up at Percy. He turned, leaning an elbow on the crate that was his back-support as Perceptor walked back to the shuttle's open hatch.

“Where're you going?”

“Just grabbing something.”

Drift's finials were crooked in curiosity, his legs already twitching for him to follow- still not believing he'd found Perceptor after thinking for so many weeks that the sniper was dead. There was silence before he heard a familiar tune being hummed and saw Perceptor returning from his little mission-

Carrying a few unmarked bottles.

“....Percy. Percy what is that.”

“A beverage.”

“Percy.”

“Drift.”

“You aren't gonna tell me what's in those, are you.”

“With how long I've been aging them, Drift, I couldn't bloody well tell you anymore.”

Perceptor grinned almost wickedly as he offered a single bottle to Drift. The swordsmech stared at him, at the container, and back to the sniper.

“...It didn't kill me then, it won't kill me now.”

Perceptor snickered to himself, using the heel of his pede to dig an indentation in the ground between them and set the extras in it- the soil was cool from the evening air and wouldn't let the fire warm the liquid within them too much.

And Perceptor sat down as he heard the crack and hiss of a broken seal.

“.....Y'know. I was once warned by a really old mech that things that hiss shouldn't go near your intake.”

“And who was that?”

“Megatron.”, said Drift in amusement, “Though... that time the warning was because I kept making moves on Starscream just to peeve him off.”

“Why would you want to make that one angry?”

“....Cause it was funny?”

“You're a mess.”, sighed Perceptor, as the sound of a second cracking seal cut into the night, “An Absolute hot mess.”

“At least I'm hot.”, said Drift sagely before lifting the bottle to his lipplates, “All that matters, right?”

Perceptor looked at him with a deadpan expression, and Drift winked before taking a deep pull from the bottle.

Perceptor looked away demurely, closing his eyes with a grin- and seconds after?

“PRIMUS what did you MAKE this out of? Rocket fuel and self-loathing?!”, said Drift as he suppressed the shudder after swallowing, “Guh.”

“Just about.”, mused Perceptor, taking a sip, “What's wrong... Bit too strong for you?”

“Just unexpected.”, said Drift, squinting at Perceptor slightly, “I was expecting something sugary sweet, given your dazzling personality and darling behavior.”

“You burn in the Inferno for lying, you know.”

Drift rolled his optics, being careful about how much of the... engex? If it can be called that- he took in a sip. Perceptor set the bottle between his thighs and leaned his helm back with a sigh, watching the stars flicker above them.

“Oh, the galaxy we're currently in is quite visible.”

“Yeah? How do you know?”, asked Drift, leaning back as well.

Perceptor pointed up, gesturing around the collected points of light, “See? There's the edge, just barely- it streaks north to south from this point on the surface- the blue color is rather nice.”

Drift peered upwards, tilting his helm before huffing and moving sideways, closer to Perceptor, “Point it out to me.”

“Watch where I point then.”, said Perceptor, waiting for Drift's optics to follow his arm, “See that smear of blue, now? That's the edge of it all; The bright points are possibly very dense stars, maybe other planets or planetoids like this one.”

Perceptor continued speaking, breaking only to take a sip from the bottle that was slowly emptying or to check and be sure Drift was still interested. They moved incrementally closer with every paragraph, every sentence, every shy meeting of optics.

Drift moved around the dwindling collection of drinks, passing one along to Perceptor when his was finished and likewise taking another for himself when his was much the same. Optics dimmed comfortably, and Perceptor's voice trailed off like a comet's tail as the fire burned low and warmed the ground they sat upon- until Drift's helm moved to rest against the front of Perceptor's shoulder- one arm slung over the sniper's waist.

Perceptor hummed in acknowledgment, moving one arm to hook around Drift's own waist; servos petting over red racing stripes as they sat in the quiet.

The fire burned lower, and the sky seemed brighter as they watched it.

“Hey Percy?”

“Hm?”

“You won't come back right now, will you.”

“...No. I can't.”, he sighed, “It's just... not time for me to go home just now.”

Drift's servos clicked softly as he gripped the sniper's chestplate.

“Could I... stay with you, then? Until its time for us to go back?”

“Of course, Drift.”, murmured the scientist before nudging the suddenly jittery mech plastered against his side, “Why would I ever want you to leave?”

“Well, I... I've...”

"Drift. Look at me, love.”

Hesitantly, Drift tilted his helm up to meet Perceptor's optics with his own. He let his optics shutter when he felt Perceptor's servos under his chin, a thumb brushing over lipplates gently as Perceptor couldn't help the rumble of amusement in his chest.

“You're ridiculous.”

“It happens.”

Drift's optics shot open when he felt Perceptor kiss him. His finials rose straight into the air, twitching and shaking uncontrollably before tilting to the sides, crooked and relaxed and his hand came up to rest gently against Perceptor's cheek.

A blue slice of galactic starstuff glimmered above them like a blessing and the fire burned itself to embers, a dull glow easily outshone by the lonely pair pressed close with the world momentarily forgotten.

When they separated, it was almost unwilling. Perceptor leaned into Drift's touch, the sensation somewhere between comfort and living electricity as Drift ducked his helm and nuzzled against Perceptor's neckcables again.

“Percy?”

“Sleep in my quarters.”

A twitch of finials.

“Just... be there. When I'm in recharge.”, continued the scientist, “Please.”

“I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.”

They moved apart and rose to their pedes. They kicked dirt over the embers, smothering them completely before Drift reached for Perceptor's hand to tug him gently and lead him back onto the shuttle. It was a comfortable kind of eerie; the silence absent of the sounds of an active console and nothing but moonlight and starstuff lighting the way. Their pedesteps were strangely muffled, hands clasped tight as Drift led him like he had once before, eons in the past.

He clambered carefully onto the berth when they reached it, looking to Perceptor with lowlit optics as the scientist smiled wearily and loving all at once.

They curled together, facing each other and holding tighter than they had in ages before, and shared another soft kiss before Perceptor draped an arm over Drift's waist and pulled him as close as possible. Drift's engines idled, a purr rumbling into the small quarters.

“I love you.”

“Love you too Percy.”

Perceptor's optics shuttered silently as Drift sighed in contentment.

 


	5. Morning Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “...My kind of morning routine.”
> 
> “Shameless, aren't you.”

The morning was, no doubt, one of the best Perceptor had awoken to.

He heard his name, low and soft, and onlined one optic with a grumble of, “H'lo.”

“We slept pretty late.”, said Drift in a hum, “Sun's halfway over the sky.”

“Good for it.”, said Perceptor with a lazy yawn, “Proud of it's motivation. However, I have better things to pay attention to.”

“Same here.”, said Drift with a grin and a playful tug of the coolant hoses that linked under Perceptor's chestplate.

Perceptor's plating flared briefly before settling, and he answered Drift's grin with a smirk of his own. Drift's finials twitched, and he gave a gentle push to get Perceptor on his back, snorting as the sniper pulled him to rest on a heavy frame.

“Oh no, I have been defeated by your superior strengths.”

“You nerd.”

“I wear the title proudly.”

Drift rolled his optics grandly, shaking his helm as he sprawled over Perceptor, “Uh-huh. You live up to it too, Mr. Astrophysicist.”

“Well you've certainly benefited from my vocabulary, I don't see why you roll your optics now.”, teased Perceptor, his hands on Drift's hips and drumming gently on the plating with his servos.

“Oh?”

“Mhmmm.”, hummed Perceptor, the glint in his optics alerting Drift far too late, “I AM after all, quite the cunning linguist.”

Drift sighed heavily, letting his helm gently thud against Perceptor's shoulder, “You did NOT just make that joke.”

“I certainly did.”

“I should sit on your face just to prevent further puns.”

“Have at it, darling.”

“I cannot believe you would pun at me at this hour.”

“Really? You REALLY can't believe it?”, said Perceptor, visibly holding back his laughter. Drift huffed, pushing himself up to straddle Perceptor's hips and settle happily- and enjoy the twitch to the corner of Perceptor's optic as the grip on rounded hips tightened.

“Well, I can believe it.”, mused Drift, “But I don't wanna.”

“Don't be rude.”

Drift tilted his helm, blinking innocently as he rocked his hips, “Me? RUDE? Come on now, I'm the purest soul in this system.”

“We all know what that's a h-heap of- would you stOP that.”

“Stop what?”, asked Drift, fangtips glinting as he grinned and rocked his hips again. Perceptor swallowed hard, visibly centering himself.

Perceptor groaned softly as Drift tapped clawed servos against the sniper's chestplate, “Oh, right. The moving around. Can't help it Percy, you I'm a squirmy mech.”

“Believe me I do.”

“Your fault.”

“You loved it.”

Drift laughed, rocking his hips and hearing the scuffing of Perceptor's kicking out his pede in annoyance.

Perceptor exvented harsh;y as Drift raised away from his plating; gracefully exctricating himself from the berth even though Perceptor grabbed halfheartedly at him with a grumble. The swordsmech stood by the berth now, stretching up on the tips of his pedes before happily sighing.

“Anyone needs me, I'll be in the washrack- find me if you dare.”

“Tease.”

“You love it.”

Perceptor watched him leave with a groan, flopping back on the berth for a moment until his fans stopped clicking on the verge of firing up into a full rattle. He waited until he heard the soft yelp from the washracks, grinning to himself because Drift wasn't quite used to the oddly fizzy mineral concoction that replaced the usual cleaning solvent.

He sat up, turning as he did so to put his pedes on the floor and stood with a grumble as his knees protested from the tangle he and Drift had slept in. He followed Drift's voice to the washrack, carefully nudging the door open enough for him to slip through and shutting it behind him out of habit.

Drift's finials flicked to and fro, slinging droplets of fizz against the walls and out the open washrack carelessly. Perceptor watched for a moment, grinning as Drift's plating rippled from a particularly fizzy burst, and then-

“Oh, it doesn't taste foul?”, mused the swordsmech, licking his lips, “....Weird.”

“Yes, it's a compound found in the rainwater and groundwater here. Bubbles pleasantly.”

Drift nearly shrieked.

Perceptor doubled over in laughter as Drift turned and glared at him, colonies of fizz and suds running down his plating.

“You could've knocked, y'know.”

“True, but you also could have looked less delicious and thus not called for me to follow along.”

Drift rolled his optics and tried to hide his smile at Perceptor's “matter of fact” declaration, “Well are you just gonna stand there til the heat's gone?”

“Of course not- merely enjoying the view.”

“Pfft.”

Drift moved aside so Perceptor could duck in under the stream of fizzing liquid, snickering when the scientist shivered from the still-odd sensation. The second he had the chance, he pressed up against the scientist and grinned. Perceptor arched an eyebrow, looking down at the mischievous expression on Drift's face.

“Can I help you?”

“Maybe.”

“You know, being able to walk is a good skill to have.”, mused Perceptor slyly, servos moving to Drift's waist to stroke along the seams.

Drift dimmed his optics, “Oh? Whatcha tryin' to say, Percy?”

“That should you continue to be so tempting, I'm not sure I could resist numbing you from the waist down, Drift.”

“...My kind of morning routine.”

“Shameless, aren't you.”

“Look who's talking, Percy.”, chided Drift with a snort, “You're the reason my vocoder needed three replacements.”

“What can I say, I'm good at what I do.”

“I'll say.”, purred Drift, claws digging gently into the edge of Perceptor's chestplate and tugging him down into a kiss. Perceptor made a soft sound of amusement before sinking into the contact- letting Drift walk him back till he was against the wall. The kiss went from careful to hungry in a nanosecond; Drift breaking the contact only to nudge under Perceptor's chin to nip and tug at neckcables.

Perceptor sighed softly, optics dim and one hand moving over Drift's slick plating to dip between the speedster's thighs and press against a warm panel.

Click.

And Drift released the throatcable he was teasing with his fangs to gasp against Perceptor's neck; going from confidently teasing the scientist to shuddering as the feel of war-calloused servos teasing and stroking and sending his temperature sky-high.

Perceptor grinned down at shivering finials, devious and wicked.

“I could stop if it's too m-”

“Don't y-you dare.”

Perceptor's grin widened, and he pushed his two middle servos deep and crooked them to made Drift's vocalizer spit static. Drift moaned thickly, and neither noticed the sudsy solvent streaming down on them going slightly colder with each second- even as it hissed on contact with warm plating. Drift gasped against Perceptor's chestplate before growling out, “Two can play at this game, lover.”

“Oh?”

Drift shuddered again at the feel of Perceptor adding another servo before he moved- reaching down and quickly pressing the manual release on Perceptor's panel.

“And I know you got a Thing for claws, darlin'.”

“Don't you mess with your voi-nngh!”

Perceptor's servos stuttered in their rhythm as Drift's own clawed ones gave him the same treatment. The scientist's helm thudded gently against the wall as he moaned Drift's name and the fizzing solvent ran even colder, hissing away in bursts of steam with the sound drowned out by their fans.

It was Perceptor who broke first, white noise rattling out of his vocalizer as his servos pressed as deep as they could into Drift and dragged out slow enough to be cruel- making the swordsmech scramble for a hold on Perceptor's plating as his voice hitched and glitched while he rode Perceptor's hand and drowned in the pulsing of a field flecked in overload.

He sagged as his calipers clenched hard, optics glimmering white for a moment before they both sank weakly down to the floor of the washrack and exvented white steam. They sat in the cool downpour, plating pinging softly as fans cycled down- Perceptor sighed happily.

“...Now all I want is a nap.”

“Mm.”, mumbled Drift, “Let's nap in the sun, that sounds like a great idea.”

“Ah yes, my dearest one- the secret cybertom.”

“Meeeow.”

Perceptor snorted, but neither made a motion to get up. Drift lazily reached out to turn off the solvent stream, plating rippling at the coolness of the air and Perceptor nudged him for a lazy kiss.

It was obvious that their plans for the day were set- and they had nothing to do with being productive.

 


End file.
